


The Night We Met (Again)

by TheCarrot



Series: Ahoy-hoy... [7]
Category: Leverage, The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Crossover, Ezekiel was on one of them, I can't stop, M/M, Micheal Vance, Past, Rare Pair, Shipathon 2018, The Librarians Shipathon 2018, Vances' dance teams, Ziva David - Freeform, because ohheytherebigbadwolf made me a photoset that I loved too much, fight me, spot the references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:01:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCarrot/pseuds/TheCarrot
Summary: Eliot first sees the kid when he’s fresh out of Moreau’s clutches and on his very last ounce of actual human soul.





	The Night We Met (Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Because ohheytherebigbadwolf made the best collage a person could ask for! It inspired me to write more of my favourite pairing. Eliot/Ezekiel is a guilty pleasure of mine. and yes, Babe, I am still working on your prompts I swear.

Eliot first sees the kid when he’s fresh out of Moreau’s clutches and on his very last ounce of actual human soul. 

Vance has put together one of his ‘lean-mean-get-this-job-done-as-fast-as-humanly-possible’ dance teams and they’re all standing in the middle of a dry ass dessert in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere Kazhastan. There’s a Navy diver from Sweden standing next to Vance, while two Canadian pilots brief a young, dark-haired, female Mossad liaison. It’s a thrown together group of people, which, if Eliot were in the habit of speaking to other people, he would tell them that this is exactly a Micheal Vance kind of idea. 

Then there’s the kid. 

The hitter frowns, looking up from the map the pilots are using to plot there next leg of mission, only to see a set of amused brown eyes watching him from above a small military tablet. The kid, ‘Jones’ if he remembers correctly, (and he always remembers correctly), doesn’t look away, merely smiles a bit wider. There’s something familiar about the grin too, and it’s off putting.

Eliot frowns, about to tell the kid to screw off already, but Vance calls them all to attention, and by the time he looks back, the kid is gone. A soft brush of air behind him has him fighting down his instincts to lash out and Eliot inhales sharply when a low chuckle sounds next to him. Sharp blue eyes watch as Jones keep walking until he’s out of the circle created by the other soldiers. 

“Hey, Spencer! Eye’s forward!” Vance snaps and by the time Eliot pulls his head out of the plans Jones has straight up disappeared. 

—

As the way with most of Micheal Vance’s plans, things go haywire and there’s a bomb. Well, there’s a scared guy holding a bomb with a red dot on his chest and Eliot really wishes he had brought a gun to the show. 

His hands immediately feel dirty, and not in the kind of covered in sweat and sand dirty way they are already; but in a, if you kill one more person you’ll never be able to lift your arms again from the weight, kind of way. 

The man is yelling in a language Eliot only half understands and as much as he wants to try and talk the man down, to not blow them up, Eliot knows what the man stands to lose. The bomb means he loses his life, the red dot means he loses his family if he doesn’t follow through. It’s exactly what he would do… has done…

Eliot doesn’t know what finally triggers the man to start moving, but he does and ‘finally’ he thinks, ‘finally it’s over.’ Only a dark blur is rolling through the hole that serves as a window and Eliot feels the full force of a lanky teenage MI6 agent barrel into him, knocking him to the floor.

The wooden floorboards collapse under Eliot’s back and he’s not sure why he wraps his arms around the other agent, but he does, cushioning the boy as they fall into the underground cellar just as the explosion rockets through the shack they had been standing in. The sound is deafening. By the time Eliot pries his eyes open, ash is falling all around them and the heat is so oppressive it’s hard to breathe. 

Jones’ face is slow to come into focus but Eliot startles at the wide smirk the younger man is casting down at him. Jones says something, but Eliot knows the feeling of perferated ear drums so the words are lost on him. It doesn’t seem to faze the other agent because Jones shakes his head, leaning forward to place an exaggerated kiss on the hitters forehead and Eliot is so shocked he loosens his grip on the boys waist. 

Moments later when Eliot shakes himself out of his stupor, Jones is gone.

—

 

Later on when Eliot finally makes his way back to Vance and the Mossad liaison lady, ‘David,’ he reminds himself, he see’s Jones send a grin his way and next to him, Vance just rolls his eyes. 

“How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want to hear about it Jones.” Vance complains with a growl.

The MI6 agent, to his credit, doesn’t drop his shit eating grin as he eyes Eliot up and down from closer than Eliot expected him to be. “I haven’t said a word Colonel...” 

Eliot startles at the accent, only just then realizing the kid hasn’t spoken a word to him despite the numerous looks. The hitter opens his mouth to rebut the kid only for the two pilots to show back up and then Vance is sending everyone off in different directions and Eliot loses his train of through in the face of ‘impending doom’.

When they finish up ten hours later, Eliot shakes the hands of the two Canadian pilots and the navy diver from Sweden, the three of them going off together, before he turns to see Vance looming over David and Jones by the desk of the hotel. Eliot starts his way towards them but the Mossad liaison departs before he can get close and then Vance is pushing the kid on the shoulder in exasperation.

Jones breaks away, leaving Vance alone as he grabs the bag by his feet and heads towards the front door. Eliot pauses in front of him, cutting off his exit and he watches brown eyes crinkle in amusement as Jones steps into the hitters personal space without a care. He’s not sure why his instincts aren’t flaring up in response but Eliot just takes a deep breath and can’t help but marvel at the light lavender smell that must be from the free soaps in the showers in the hotel. 

“Good work… ” Eliot finally says, his voice rough.

That familiar smirk is back on Jones’ face and Eliot has a hard time picturing a different expression on the boys face now. It’s only as he looks a bit longer that the hitter thinks this smirk looks softer, almost gentler around the edges. He doesn’t jump this time as Jones leans in, slowly this time, and presses a soft kiss against the hitters cheek. 

“Ya look a lot better now mate, ta.”

And with that, Ezekiel darts out of the foyer, leaving Eliot speechless. until finally he can get his bearings straight, whipping around just as Mike shouts behind him.

“SPENCER! Come on! Let’s move, we got shit to do.”

—

After all the ‘Michael Vance’ shit is done and over with, Eliot finds the closest bar and orders himself a bottle of Jack. It doesn’t take long, maybe twenty minutes, before that light brush of air ghosts over his back and makes his hair stand on end. The hitter whips around, completely off his barstool to grab onto the thief behind him. With maybe a bit more force than necessary, Eliot hauls the laughing Jones as close as possible to his chest, only to turn and press the younger man into the wooden bar. 

Ezekiel’s eyes shimmer with amusement as he looks up into shining blue. “So, you finally remember me then?” He chuckles, voice almost impossible to hear over the music unless you were standing as close as Eliot was. 

“Ezekiel Jones…” Eliot doesn’t continue. Doesn’t need too. All he’s ever needed was a name.

The Aussie smirks once more and it’s enough to have Eliot growling low in his throat at the sight of it. Ezekiel groans as the hitter presses him further into the bar and, hell, it’s uncomfortable as fuck, but he can also feel the hard planes of muscle through the stupid flannel the man’s wearing and he has to groan.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve.” Eliot hisses, taking a minuscule step back, giving him just enough space to slip a hand between the wooden bar and Ezekiel’s back. 

“So I’ve been told.” The thief chuckles, reaching up and threading his fingers though the soft thick hair that’s starting to grow longer than he’s ever seen Eliot have it… and Eliot…

Eliot feels like he can breathe.

For the first time in forever, Damien Moreau is not the first person on his mind, he’s not focused on looking like he can kill within a second. He’s just there; holding the most aggravating person he knows in his arms, loud music blaring in his blown out ear drums and Eliot feels like he can finally take a deep breath. One that will fill in all the collapsed parts of him that haven’t seen light in years. 

The smirk falters on his lips falters and Ezekiel sighs heavily, his arms moving down and around the hitters neck without a care to the mans reflexes. “It’s okay.” He whispers, hauling Eliot close.

“No it ain’t.” Eliot whispers back, burying his face in the stupidly soft wool of the thief’s sweater. 

The music swells around them and Eliot’s bottle of Jack sits forgotten on the bar. The small bubble of comfort that sits between them follows them as the two men make their way out of the dingy bar. 

Eliot presses the thief to the rough brick just outside the building, uncaring of anything except for the way Ezekiel laughs breathlessly. “Still think it’s okay?” He growls with a rough bite to Ezekeil’s neck. 

Letting his head fall back Ezekiel groans loudly and wraps his legs around Eliot’s waist. “Damn mate, not a chance…. The worlds in for it.” He gasps, eyes falling shut. “Serve’s’em right.” 

“Dammit Jones…” 

Eliot hauls him off into the darkness with tight fists around a slim waist and Ezekiel just grins until the hitter finally wipes the look off of his face with a well places kiss and a wordless promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having 3$ mimosas.. please alert me to any spelling or grammatical errors...


End file.
